DANCING LESSONS
CHAPTER 6
LIFE'S IRONIC
"Was I right about that on you or what?" Miyako asked with a smug smile, as Hikari came to stand in front of the mirror in the little boutique. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw herself. Her reflection was a graceful and sophisticated stranger in a silver-silky top and a short skirt embroidered with jasmine. They clung to her new curves, accentuating the swell of her breasts and her shapely dancer's legs. She looked sixteen at least, more beautiful than she could have thought possible. If Takeru saw her in this, she thought in amazement, he would have to love her.
"Can you see Kaa-san letting me out of the house in this?" she turned to her friend, "It's a little . . . revealing."
"That's kinda the point," Miyako flipped her hair over her shoulder and made a face at the mirror, "I look terrible in this, don't I?"
"You look beautiful," she replied honestly. Miyako did look beautiful in the sort of tight, black dress that only she would have had the courage to wear. It was a halter neck that plunged low behind and left her back bare, apart from the complicated lacings that traced a spider web across it.
Hikari was a little shocked to see she had a tattoo of a butterfly on one of her shoulder blades, and it didn't look like one of the washable ones that came with bubblegum. That was new, just like everything else about her friend. She could hardly believe that this was the same girl who had gone with her to the Digital World, who had confided to her that she wanted to be just like Koushirou-sempai, with whom she had spent hours giggling in the dark at sleepovers. She seemed so confident, so free, so . . . grown- up.
Hikari adjusted her own skirt, feeling uncomfortably like a little girl dressing up in her mother's clothes. How did she think she could compete with Miyako? How did she imagine that Takeru would have eyes for anyone else but her? She had been an idiot thinking that pretty clothes and make- up could ever imitate what seemed to come naturally to the other girl.
She felt tears come to her eyes and she blinked them back fiercely. There was no point crying for something that had never been, for someone that she had never lost. Takeru would still be her best friend; she would just have to content herself with that.
"Anyway, I know how to get around the whole parent issue," her friend shrugged, adjusting the skirt so it sat better on her hips, "You can sleep over at my place that night, if you don't mind sleeping on the couch. Too many Inoues and too few beds, I'm afraid!"
"Hey, I'm used to it. I always end up on the couch when Yamato or one of the other guys stays the night," she laughed weakly, glad for the distraction from her thoughts, "So, should we pay for our clothes and then get something to drink at the coffee shop?"
"Great idea! There's something I want to talk to you about, anyway," Miyako gave her a mysterious smile and swept past her into the changing room.
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"So, come on, give me all the dirt on Wallace!" Inoue Miyako said eagerly, leaning forward in her seat and cupping her hands around her cappuccino. Through the rising steam from the cup, she reminded Hikari of a fortune- teller from an old movie, her purple hair falling forward like a veil and her eyes a mystery. She remembered her friend's cryptic comment in the boutique and felt a little shiver of premonition pass down her spine.
"There's no dirt to give," she replied, sipping at her coffee. It was too hot and burnt her lips, but it gave her a moment to marshall her thoughts. She had been so low and blue about Takeru that night that she could barely remember her conversation with Wallace, other than that he had only paused from flirting with her to flatter her. Three years ago, he might have succeeded, but she saw him for what he was now, "Mimi-san gave me his number in Japan, after a long speech about what a Casanova he was. I phoned him and he said he'd be happy to take me to the dance. He's going to catch a train from Kanagawa and stay over with some friends of his in Tokyo that night."
"Not with you?" Miyako giggled, "I was sure he'd ask."
"Miyako!" Hikari felt heat rush to her cheeks. Her friend could be shockingly outspoken at times, "Ecchi yo!"
"Just teasing," she winked at her, then leaned back in her chair to look at her, "Anyway, I'm glad you've got a date. Wallace is a big sweetie. You two will have fun together at the dance, even if Operation: Dumb Blond fails."
"Operation: Dumb Blond?" Hikari laughed, "Miyako!"
"Every good operation needs a codename, and Takeru has been very dumb blond about you recently."
Hikari decided not to dignify that with a reply, but asked instead, "So, who are you taking?"
"Ah, that's the something I wanted to tell you. I know you probably won't approve of it, but . . . you'll thank me for it someday."
"What do you mean?" The words seemed to stick on Hikari's lips. The same vague feeling of dread seemed to rise inside her, like smoke clouding the sky in the distance. She wished she could freeze that moment and keep it suspended forever, so that she could avoid living the ones that were to follow.
"Well, I was thinking about your problem last night and it occurred to me that we weren't fighting the battle on all fronts," Miyako steepled her fingers in front of her in her best imitation of a veteran general, "We've got attack with you and Wallace, but we don't have defense. What if Takeru takes the girl he likes to the dance? He'll spend the whole evening focussed on her to the exclusion of the hotness that is you. Simple problems call for simple solutions," she smiled smugly, "We all know Takeru's incapable of saying no to anyone - well, anyone except maybe Daisuke - so get a girl to ask him that he doesn't like. He'll take her and spend the rest of the evening wishing he was with you . . . ."
"And the girl is . . . ?" Hikari asked, although she already knew the answer to the question. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the irony of fate. All of Miyako's elaborate, carefully planned schemes were going to bring about exactly what they had been trying to prevent.
"Never say that I'm not a true friend, Yagami Hikari," she sighed theatrically, "I asked him, and he said 'yes'. I'm going with Takeru to the dance . . . ."
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DUM DUM DAH! TO BE CONTINUED!
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"Was I right about that on you or what?" Miyako asked with a smug smile, as Hikari came to stand in front of the mirror in the little boutique. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw herself. Her reflection was a graceful and sophisticated stranger in a silver-silky top and a short skirt embroidered with jasmine. They clung to her new curves, accentuating the swell of her breasts and her shapely dancer's legs. She looked sixteen at least, more beautiful than she could have thought possible. If Takeru saw her in this, she thought in amazement, he would have to love her.
"Can you see Kaa-san letting me out of the house in this?" she turned to her friend, "It's a little . . . revealing."
"That's kinda the point," Miyako flipped her hair over her shoulder and made a face at the mirror, "I look terrible in this, don't I?"
"You look beautiful," she replied honestly. Miyako did look beautiful in the sort of tight, black dress that only she would have had the courage to wear. It was a halter neck that plunged low behind and left her back bare, apart from the complicated lacings that traced a spider web across it.
Hikari was a little shocked to see she had a tattoo of a butterfly on one of her shoulder blades, and it didn't look like one of the washable ones that came with bubblegum. That was new, just like everything else about her friend. She could hardly believe that this was the same girl who had gone with her to the Digital World, who had confided to her that she wanted to be just like Koushirou-sempai, with whom she had spent hours giggling in the dark at sleepovers. She seemed so confident, so free, so . . . grown- up.
Hikari adjusted her own skirt, feeling uncomfortably like a little girl dressing up in her mother's clothes. How did she think she could compete with Miyako? How did she imagine that Takeru would have eyes for anyone else but her? She had been an idiot thinking that pretty clothes and make- up could ever imitate what seemed to come naturally to the other girl.
She felt tears come to her eyes and she blinked them back fiercely. There was no point crying for something that had never been, for someone that she had never lost. Takeru would still be her best friend; she would just have to content herself with that.
"Anyway, I know how to get around the whole parent issue," her friend shrugged, adjusting the skirt so it sat better on her hips, "You can sleep over at my place that night, if you don't mind sleeping on the couch. Too many Inoues and too few beds, I'm afraid!"
"Hey, I'm used to it. I always end up on the couch when Yamato or one of the other guys stays the night," she laughed weakly, glad for the distraction from her thoughts, "So, should we pay for our clothes and then get something to drink at the coffee shop?"
"Great idea! There's something I want to talk to you about, anyway," Miyako gave her a mysterious smile and swept past her into the changing room.
-----------------------
"So, come on, give me all the dirt on Wallace!" Inoue Miyako said eagerly, leaning forward in her seat and cupping her hands around her cappuccino. Through the rising steam from the cup, she reminded Hikari of a fortune- teller from an old movie, her purple hair falling forward like a veil and her eyes a mystery. She remembered her friend's cryptic comment in the boutique and felt a little shiver of premonition pass down her spine.
"There's no dirt to give," she replied, sipping at her coffee. It was too hot and burnt her lips, but it gave her a moment to marshall her thoughts. She had been so low and blue about Takeru that night that she could barely remember her conversation with Wallace, other than that he had only paused from flirting with her to flatter her. Three years ago, he might have succeeded, but she saw him for what he was now, "Mimi-san gave me his number in Japan, after a long speech about what a Casanova he was. I phoned him and he said he'd be happy to take me to the dance. He's going to catch a train from Kanagawa and stay over with some friends of his in Tokyo that night."
"Not with you?" Miyako giggled, "I was sure he'd ask."
"Miyako!" Hikari felt heat rush to her cheeks. Her friend could be shockingly outspoken at times, "Ecchi yo!"
"Just teasing," she winked at her, then leaned back in her chair to look at her, "Anyway, I'm glad you've got a date. Wallace is a big sweetie. You two will have fun together at the dance, even if Operation: Dumb Blond fails."
"Operation: Dumb Blond?" Hikari laughed, "Miyako!"
"Every good operation needs a codename, and Takeru has been very dumb blond about you recently."
Hikari decided not to dignify that with a reply, but asked instead, "So, who are you taking?"
"Ah, that's the something I wanted to tell you. I know you probably won't approve of it, but . . . you'll thank me for it someday."
"What do you mean?" The words seemed to stick on Hikari's lips. The same vague feeling of dread seemed to rise inside her, like smoke clouding the sky in the distance. She wished she could freeze that moment and keep it suspended forever, so that she could avoid living the ones that were to follow.
"Well, I was thinking about your problem last night and it occurred to me that we weren't fighting the battle on all fronts," Miyako steepled her fingers in front of her in her best imitation of a veteran general, "We've got attack with you and Wallace, but we don't have defense. What if Takeru takes the girl he likes to the dance? He'll spend the whole evening focussed on her to the exclusion of the hotness that is you. Simple problems call for simple solutions," she smiled smugly, "We all know Takeru's incapable of saying no to anyone - well, anyone except maybe Daisuke - so get a girl to ask him that he doesn't like. He'll take her and spend the rest of the evening wishing he was with you . . . ."
"And the girl is . . . ?" Hikari asked, although she already knew the answer to the question. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the irony of fate. All of Miyako's elaborate, carefully planned schemes were going to bring about exactly what they had been trying to prevent.
"Never say that I'm not a true friend, Yagami Hikari," she sighed theatrically, "I asked him, and he said 'yes'. I'm going with Takeru to the dance . . . ."
------------------
DUM DUM DAH! TO BE CONTINUED!
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